CHAPTER 138: | REPORT

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  ~ ? ~ The Fallen Empire of Atlantis — Endless Mountains of the Sacred Expanse — Northern Part of Atlantis ~ ? ~

  The forest that once teemed with life, where schools of aquatic beasts glided through crystalline waters, now lay in a deathly stillness. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the faint rise of bubbles escaping the soil. A sickly green hue drifted through the sluggish currents, fusing with them before spreading outward like a plague. The stench alone was enough to rot a man’s sanity.

  A closer look revealed why. Countless corpses, tens of thousands of them, blanketed the forest in every direction. Their flesh, swollen and discolored, writhed with hordes of small demonic beasts that resembled maggots. Some cadavers had entire eye sockets hollowed out, where these creatures burrowed and plowed like farmers tending cursed soil.

  It was revolting to witness… yet the two figures seated in the very heart of this mass grave remained undisturbed. Even as the stench grew thick enough to taste, neither Lumicor nor Ishtar voiced a complaint.

  Lumicor took the challenge willingly, forcing himself to endure the unbearable reek as part of his training. Strengthening his body, tempering his mana, and sharpening his will, he immersed himself in an absolute state of concentration.

  Ishtar, however, had not begun with such stoicism. At first she complained relentlessly, insisting Lumicor clear the corpses before they rose again as undead. Her concern was reasonable, now and then a corpse twitched back to unlife, only for Lumicor’s sword to greet it faster than the creature could finish rising.

  A month later, the smell had grown even worse, and Ishtar voiced her frustrations again. Lumicor gave no answer, no explanation. He simply let her protest, then ignored her, waiting for her to understand the purpose of this grotesque place, eventually, she did.

  Realizing that letting the corpses sit and rot would benefit her cultivation, Ishtar shook her head in resignation. She lowered herself to the ground, crossed her legs, and took the lotus position.

  Though she could evolve into an emperor at this very moment, her eyes whispered that the timing wasn’t right. She trusted that intuition, just as she did the day she met the kind mister. Her eyes had urged her to follow him, because she listened, she survived the destruction of Atlantis.

  She still regretted that she never got to see her mother’s remains, but the regret no longer froze her heart. Not after meeting the kind big sister who saved her from the big, bad quiet mister. Still… forgiveness for those two misters was out of the question.

  So, Ishtar resolved herself, she would become super strong, strong enough to avenge her big sister and someday smack those two misters’ buttocks until they apologized properly. The thought made her grin as she drifted into a pleasant daydream.

  Lumicor opened his eyes, glanced at the young girl, and instantly read her intentions. He let a quiet chuckle echo only within his mind. 'Then I’ll look forward to the day you teach this big bad mister a lesson…'

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  ~ ? ~ The Fallen Empire of Atlantis — Endless Dunes of the Abyss — Western Part of Atlantis ~ ? ~

  Across the desolate west, where the endless dunes stretched to eternity, two figures moved through the vast, shifting waters. One was a humanoid woman, her eyes veiled by a white linen blindfold whose trailing ends drifted behind her like her silver-white hair. Beside her glided a gargantuan dragon, its form reminiscent of Varuna’s 'true water dragon,' cutting through the water with ease, its massive body sliding just inches away from Solia.

  She released a quiet sigh, unheard by anyone but herself. She sensed nothing in the distance, not a single presence even a mile around. 'It seems our task is complete…' she murmured inwardly.

  Though she turned her head as if to look out across the dunes, her blind gaze saw nothing. Still, she stepped forward with confident precision, then another step, continuing their shared journey without hesitation. Blind or not, she never once considered herself lesser than anyone else. Regret had not visited her, not since the moment she devoted herself to her one and only god, Alister von Fai, the Distorted One.

  Even when she once stood as Skaira’s apostle, and even now, broken in body, blind, mute, half-deaf, Solia had never regretted the path that brought her here. Her god must have intended this trial for her. In the beginning, when all two senses failed her at once, she had felt the crushing dread that she, his first apostle, might never serve him properly again. But her god only told her this, that it was a test, and she would prove her worth, and she had.

  Absorbing Surtr’s inheritance, he called it his inheritance, had multiplied her mana a hundredfold. She barely paid attention to that phrasing at the time. What mattered was the transformation. Her pitiful mana, so meager that 'meager' itself felt like an exaggeration, surged from a mere thousand to a hundred thousand in less than a year.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Her combat power now nearly matched Lumicor’s base form. And though she recognized that even with less mana, Lumicor would still outshine her tenfold in pure skill, she took pride in what she achieved.

  Lumicor was a monster of talent, after all. A being who could replenish his mana entirely in less than a second by forcing his own to chain-react with the particles in the air, then dragging them into himself as if commanding the world to obey.

  She understood only fragments of that process, and even grasping those fragments was a victory to her. Understanding the thoughts of a monstrous genius was beyond what someone like her could hope for.

  Just as understanding Lumicor’s intent back then had been beyond her. She still remembered the moment he surrendered, uttering 'beloved' as a loophole, masking the truth that he had been threatened by her own god. The revelation had shaken her. But after months of sharing the same room, listening to Lumicor’s mutterings, his restless pursuit of knowledge, his total disregard for pride when learning anything worthwhile… she finally understood.

  Lumicor acknowledged her god, Alister von Fai, because he hungered for the wisdom her god held. Wisdom so vast that even years would not be enough to unravel a single thread of one of his ramblings, ramblings he sometimes forgot moments later, as though they were nothing more than idle entertainment.

  Solia ended her thoughts when she sensed a powerful disturbance entering her perception. Her expression softened into a faint smile. She paused for a heartbeat, then stepped forward, and vanished.

  In the next instant she reappeared before a colossal creature, a sandworm shaped like a draconic leviathan, gliding through the dunes as if phasing through them like a ghost. Her smile deepened. Her blade slid free only for the briefest moment, so fast it was nearly imaginary, and then returned to its scabbard with a gentle click as she passed behind the beast.

  Softly, within the quiet of her mind, she whispered in silence. 'Storm Sword Art: Twin Thunder Fangs.'

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  ~ ? ~ Western Continent — Under the Lake of Dreadnought — In the Imperial Palace of the Athen Empire ~ ? ~

  In the throne room of the lavish imperial palace of the Thallasians, or rather, the palace of decadence, as Theodore had mockingly named it after seating himself upon the throne months ago, the atmosphere was strangely calm. The former emperor had surrendered without so much as a whimper, leaving Theodore to rule in his stead.

  He stared up at the mural painted across the ceiling, a grand depiction of the Thallasians’ founder. With a quiet sigh he shifted his gaze to his sister. Celeste’s face was practically glowing, as though she’d finally shed a burden she’d carried all her life. Then he looked at Lucille III, who was trembling so violently he resembled a man tortured for months without end. Theodore shook his head and asked, in a casual tone,

  “Enjoying the taste of freedom, sister?”

  Celeste smiled demurely at his direct question. She glanced down at Lucille III, who flinched the moment her eyes landed on him, and pulled his face into her chest as she replied.

  “I feel wonderful. Like I’ve been reborn. I can finally do what I couldn’t before. And I’ve been enjoying Lucille III’s company quite well. How about you, Theodore?”

  Seated upon his throne, Theodore couldn’t hold back a small chuckle. It wasn’t meant to mock her unusual tastes, simply to savor how genuinely happy she looked. A rare smile tugged at his lips as he answered calmly,

  “Hm. I’m doing better. So, how’s the report I asked you to investigate?”

  Celeste’s smile immediately vanished. She straightened her posture like a soldier standing before her commander. Their lighthearted exchange shifted into something crisp and disciplined as she spoke with solemnity.

  “Understood. As for our forces, we currently possess 10,183 soldiers. Among them are 183 remaining Seraphim archetypes, ranging from King to Overlord stages, stage 2 to 3, with several Sovereigns included. Meanwhile, according to reports from the Crab Expanse, Mother has produced ten thousand new Thallasian archetypes, all at stage 0.

  “Now for the pressing matter. My subordinates discovered that the Western Duke and Duchess will arrive in less than a week. They command an army of ten thousand elite strongmen, every one of them at stage 3, with ranks ranging from overlords to sovereigns. If we engage directly, the result will be our total annihilation.

  “If we hold our fort, we could expect a reinforcement of one thousand Thallasian archetypes within a year. Their collective strength ranges from stage 2 to stage 3, Lords, Kings, Overlords, and Sovereigns. However… we cannot endure a siege. If they employ their Eight Scriptures Spiritual Cannons, they will shatter the Ten-Thousand-Five Scriptures Protective Grand Formation surrounding the palace. It has not yet recovered from the damage we dealt during our initial invasion.”

  Theodore considered her report for only a moment. Then he raised a hand slightly and muttered aloud,

  “I see. So we’re stuck in a rot, huh? Interesting.”

  A low cackle escaped him. In the same instant, the pressure of an incomplete emperor erupted from his body, eerily similar to the overwhelming aura of his father. The palace shook. Every soldiers guarding the corridors, every servants cleaning the palace collapsed to their knees. Theodore rose from the throne, extended a hand to retrieve his spear, and vanished the next moment along with the crushing weight of his presence.

  Celeste finally inhaled properly after the suffocating pressure dissipated. She exhaled a long breath, then glanced at Lucille III, whose face had turned ghostly pale. She sighed at her brother’s dramatic outburst, but a soft smile curled her lips.

  For she knew, once Theodore decided to move, victory was inevitable. Just like the day he crossed paths with their brother in the dungeon. Even when facing a god, Theodore had remained unmoved… no, amused, as if watching a child flail in his presence.

  Celeste scooped Lucille III into a princess carry and strode out of the throne room with a laugh.

  “Fufufu~ Those two pairs of lovebirds still have no idea how terrifying Theodore’s abilities truly are.”

  Lucille III tilted his head, confusion swirling in his eyes. Across thousands of timelines he had witnessed Theodore’s strength, yet even then the Western Duke had stood above him. So what gave Celeste such unwavering confidence that Theodore’s move meant certain victory? His confusion deepened as he asked,

  “What do you mean, Celeste?”

  Walking through the gold-laden hallways, Celeste merely smiled and whispered,

  “You’ll see when the time comes.”